


Dull Eyes & Writing Therapy

by IGotTooMuchLove



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Events after BoFA, Implied Suicide Attempt, M/M, Writing therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGotTooMuchLove/pseuds/IGotTooMuchLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was not beta-read, so I'm sorry if there are some really really stupid mistakes... Meh, my English is bad in general but I try. Well, I tried.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dull Eyes & Writing Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This was not beta-read, so I'm sorry if there are some really really stupid mistakes... Meh, my English is bad in general but I try. Well, I tried.

When Bilbo returned to Bag End, barely anyone in Hobbiton could recognize him. Bilbo seemed like a whole different person. In appearance he hadn't changed that much. Surely the hobbit's hair did grow quite a bit, his face looked paler and thinner than usually however, his eyes and character changed a lot. Everyone who participated in the auction at Bag End could only cringe when they saw just how much his clothes were worn out. Bilbo seemed like a hobbit that had seen hell because his eyes, which effulgence had many times been compared to stars, now looked only like two black dots or coals – empty and lifeless. Later hobbits would time and again say that the real Bilbo Baggins did die and somebody else was living instead of him by his name and appearance. The residents in Hobbiton couldn't be really blamed for such thoughts for nobody had seen the half-ling for over a year and his cozy hole, unlocked, was left collecting dust, not to mention the fact that Bilbo's beloved garden didn't look much like a garden anymore… Luckily nothing had been stolen from Bag End.

After Bilbo got back a bigger part of his possession he locked himself inside Bag End for almost a week. This kind of act only made the others worry, especially Gandalf who would pass Hobbiton every two days.

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"I'm telling you, my lads," said the Mayor Whitfoot one evening to three hobbits in the Green Dragon, "something's very off with Mr. Baggins." Even though the pub was full of hobbits that sung loudly about what make their hearts leap from joy, the young mayor tried to talk as quiet as possibly because he didn’t want others involved in their discussion.

"Aye," said one of them after taking a gulp of ale, "and I know what's exactly wrong with him."

Everyone's eyes went on the hobbit as if he had started speaking in a completely different and unknown language. The hobbit took the intense looks and growing silence as a sign to continue.

"If I remember right," he paused for a moment, "about a year ago, when Mr. Baggins disappeared, I saw him running off with a small backpack. I quickly asked him 'Mister Bilbo! Where you off to?' he said something that I didn’t catch but I believe I heard him say 'I'm going on an adventure.' …or at least something around the lines."

As the hobbit said the word 'adventure', the Mayor and other companion's faces grimaced like they bit on a lemon. Everyone in Hobbiton disliked any kind of business that would disturb the peace, even if it's actually not for their noses and not related to them, the word was taken very unpleasantly.

"But that's not all," continued he, "a day before that, there were a lot of dwarrows. I think about a dozen or so... I'm sure that he had some business with those lads."

"Oh, yes," said suddenly another hobbit in a distressed voice, "I actually remember two of them asking me where Bag End was. What a fool I had been back then…” The poor fellow almost burst in tears. “I actually told them the way."

The other hobbits could only shake their heads in silent disagreement but patted their companion on the back as a sign of forgiveness for his deed. The ale that they loved seemed to have lost its lovely taste.

"Oh, what would his mother think?" groaned the third companion who was sitting beside the Mayor. "How would she feel to know that her son tainted the respectable name of Baggins?"

"No," disagreed the Mayor and took a huge gulp from his pint, "wrongly formulated question, my lad. Belladonna would have cared less since she was a Took and you all know what kind of hobbits they are. What would dear, bless his soul, Bungo think? He was such a respectable hobbit."

"I would like it very much if you could leave out my mother and her family out of this conversation" said a bitterly familiar voice behind them. The hobbits froze and almost choked on their drinks because Bilbo himself was right there. "I can assure you that I won't be going on any adventuress anymore."

A few moments later they could hear the door of the Green Dragon close. None of the companions noticed Bilbo’s presence even though the whole pub went dead silent when the said hobbit stepped through the door. The tension in the room subsided only after one of the already drunk hobbits asked for a refill from his friend.

"Well, that was unpleasant," said Mr. Whitfoot and took another careful gulp of his ale. "However, it doesn't explain why he seems like a hobbit who lost his dear and cozy hole… because he actually didn't. Actually, he got it back just on time."

"Nay," said the hobbit beside Mr. Whitfoot, "He looks more like a hobbit who lost his better-half."

"Well, I honestly have to say that he looks like it’s the later. My niece had the same look when she found out that her husband had drowned and what a pity… He was such a good lad. However…I didn't know that Mr. Baggins married anyone."

"Because he didn't but," said the mayor in such a sad tone that his companions looked at each other with confusion, “maybe he found somebody on that… adventure… and later lost that person. Two days or so ago I spoke with his aunt Mirabella. She visited him said that he doesn't crack a smile, not even talking about a laugh. ‘Just plain heartbroken’ those were her words.” What Mr. Whitfoot said left his companions to wonder… Nobody discussed about Bilbo for the rest of the evening.

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Bilbo let out a tired sigh of relief when he shut his door to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins' face, and rested his head against the door. He listened closely to what was happening outside and he could hear many very displeased voiced from hobbits that came to the auction. Bilbo was just glad that everyone, who came to the auction, started collecting all of the foldaway chairs in his yard and leave Bag End. He didn't even say Gandalf a proper goodbye but he was sure that the wizard would understand his actions. At least he hoped that the wizard would understand his need for absolute peace and quiet from this long and exhausting journey.

"You are not the hobbit that you were," murmured Bilbo to himself and went to his living room. Bilbo looked through his window and spotted Gandalf, since it wasn’t really that hard to miss such a huge in height person, and noticed him slip an envelope into his mailbox. "I’ll get that later but now I’m going to enjoy the moment of being at home," Bilbo let out another sigh and sat down on one of the oaken chairs that his father made when he still hadn’t married his mother. Bilbo didn’t feel like moving. He was too tired to go to the hall and take off his coat. I’ll hang my coat, thought Bilbo, the moment when I feel like I care about the world.

Bilbo took out his pipe, lit it and a few moments later the room was filled with rings of smoke. The hobbit only then took a good look at the room. Nothing seemed to have changed. The pictures of his mother and father were in place, the basket with firewood stood untouched, the armchairs stayed in the same position as he had left them. The only thing in this picture that annoyed him was the layer of dust that he could see from where he was sitting. Well, thought Bilbo to himself as he let out another smoke ring, there’s going to be a lot of dusting and cleaning if I don’t want to sneeze and cough all the time. However, it was almost nostalgic to sit here because this room was where Bilbo sat and tried to calm down after reading the contract that the dwarrows had given to him, where the company first sang about the Lonely Mountain. The fire in his fireplace almost seemed to submit to their song of magic because Bilbo could have sworn that back then he had seen the flames take form of dwarrows and trees. He still could remember the timbre of their voices and the sound of instruments, especially that of a harp. He could yet remember the soft and heavenly sound which had been produced by those rough hands of an expert jeweler, the sway of those dark locks primped with grey when the musician had to look from time to time to see if he’s reaching for the right golden string…

It took a moment for Bilbo to realize that something wet was running down his face. Tears the size of beans were falling down the hobbit’s tired face as silent as the smoke rings were flowing in the air but the hobbit tried not to give too much thought in it. It’s just smoke, thought Bilbo, it’s possible to get smoke in your eyes even if you’re a proficient smoker. Yet it wouldn’t explain why the hobbit felt a terrible pang in his heart. When Bilbo saw one of the rings disappearing in the chimney, he couldn’t take it anymore. The poor hobbit buried his face in his shaking hands and broke into loud sobs.

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It had been two week since Bilbo returned to Bag End and after much discussion with himself Gandalf decided to visit his old friend. As he entered Hobbiton the wizard heard a lot of unpleasant and worrisome rumors about his friend. Gandalf reached Bag End and knocked with his cane on the door three times.

“Lobelia, if that’s you I swear-,” a very unpleased voice could be heard on the other side. When Bilbo opened the door, Gandalf started wondering if a part of those rumors weren’t true. “Oh, Gandalf, it’s only you. Come in, come in.”

The old man took a few steps inside. Bag End was spotless, if not too clean for Gandalf’s taste. It wouldn’t surprise me, though he, if dear Bilbo had been cleaning the whole place for days non-stop without any sleep. The last time the wizard saw his friend, he had already looked thin but now it seemed like Bilbo lost another 20 pounds. My stars, thought Gandalf, memories are eating him away.

“Would you like some tea or something to eat?” asked Bilbo as he hanged Gandalf’s hat and carefully put the cane against the wall. He let the wizard into the living room. Even though the day was very warm there was a fire crackling inside the fireplace.

“No, thank you, Bilbo,” sat Gandalf down on one of the oaken chairs. “I came here to speak with you and… well, maybe tea would be nice.”

“What did you want to talk about?” asked Bilbo a few minutes later when he set to cups of tea on the table and sat down.

“About you, my dear friend,” Gandalf took out his pipe and lit it, “there are rumors ru-” Bilbo interrupted him with a distressed laugh.

“Tell me something that I don’t know, Gandalf, my old friend. I have already heard all the versions that there are.”

“I’m starting to believe that some of them are true,” said the old wizard. “Just look at you,” he waved his hand in Bilbo’s direction, “You used to be so merry and full of joy despite everything. Now I see only a hobbit who dwells on memories that only bring him pain. Your eyes are dark and dull, almost empty. Our companions would not so secretly compare the effulgence of them to diamonds; it was also a sign of a healthy soul.”

“And I wonder whose fault it is that I’m in this state,” said Bilbo bitterly. If the handkerchief in the hobbit’s hands had a voice, it would have screamed like bloody murder.

“I understand how you fee-,” said Gandalf calmly but was interrupted.

“NO, you DON’T,” screamed Bilbo and got up from his chair. “You absolutely do not understand, Gandalf. I never wanted this!”

The hobbit slumped back into his chair and buried his face in his hands. To Gandalf’s surprise he noticed tears in his friend’s eyes when Bilbo removed his hands. Bilbo wasn’t trying to hide the tears because he was just too tired from all of it.

“I never wanted for home to become a distant and unfamiliar place,” started Bilbo in a weak voice, “I never wanted for home to become a place full with memories that bring heartbreak.” He let out a shaky sigh and tried calm himself but only more tears rolled out of his eyes. “Most of all, I never wanted to fall in love, especially not on this journey and not for a king.”

“Oh, Bilbo…” Gandalf had a feeling that his hobbit friend had felt some affection towards Thorin Oakenshield however, he hadn’t known that it bloomed into love. He remembered Fili and Kili would always snicker when they saw their uncle and Bilbo interact.

“Since my father’s death I kept an eye on mother. She was so broken… barely a living person. That’s when I promised myself that I will never fall in love since… what’s the point? Death transforms such a beautiful feeling into something so… horrendous. I didn’t want to know how that feels but here I am,” Bilbo’s voice broke… After a few deep breaths and only when he felt like he could trust his voice again, the half-ling turned towards Gandalf and looked him in the eye, “How the bloody hell can I survive this? Yesterday, I almost took out Sting and…”

Gandalf knew what was left unsaid. He moved his chair so that he was sitting in front of Bilbo, took one of the half-ling’s small and trembling hands into his huge and warm ones.

“First, my dear Bilbo,” said Gandalf in a calming voice, “I ask for you to wipe away your tears. Just for this moment. Crying helps heal the soul, some think it’s a sign of weakness but that’s not true, right now it won’t help for the wound is too deep. Second, death isn’t the end, my dear friend. It’s only the beginning. Our loved ones never truly leave us. Thorin Oakenshield may not be living amongst us anymore but he lives here,” Gandalf pointed Bilbo in the chest, “He lives inside your heart, inside your and everybody’s memories. Thorin lives till there are no more who remember him. The same goes for Fili and Kili,” he gave a small smile of encouragement. Bilbo tried to respond in the same way but it was a weak a one. It was an attempt nevertheless and now Bilbo seemed more alive than in the last two weeks. “Finally,” continued Gandalf, “I would like if you could talk with anyone as much as possible.”

“The last time I tried to talk with aunt Mirabella,” said Bilbo and took a sip of his now-cold tea, “there was a huge discussion about me in the Green Dragon.”

“Then write letters or just write what’s on your mind. You can always write to me. A few days ago, I received a letter from Balin. He was asking about you. I think he and the others would be happy to hear something from you. Also,” the wizard’s expression changed as he remembered something very important, “have you read the letter that I left you?”

“No,” Bilbo shook his head, “I got it out of my mailbox but didn’t have the time to read it.”

“Good because I think I gave it to you too soon. I would like to have it back, for safe-keeping, until I believe it’s the right time for you to get it. Where can I find it?”

“I’ll bring it to you,” Bilbo stood up and left the living room. A few moments later he came back with an envelope and gave it to the wizard. “It goods that you came to visit me, Gandalf. Your words gave me some inner strength that I have been lacking for a while. Sorry that your tea got cold,” said Bilbo as he pointed the cup and smiled a little.

“Don’t worry about that, Bilbo. Now that I see you look better, I’ll be off to see our dwarrows.”

Gandalf gave Bilbo a tight hug and moved towards the hall. He took his hat and staff.

“Write, Bilbo. Write. It’ll do, my friend. Also, eat more, my friend.”

Bilbo only nodded and saw his friend off until he couldn’t see Gandalf anymore.

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_Dear bloody old paper,_

_This is supposed to be called help. Gandalf suggested writing on you because he honestly believes that by writing everything down I’m going to feel better. I don’t believe this is going to work but it doesn’t hurt to try… then again, everything hurts. It still hurts. Gandalf was right when he said that the wound is too deep. Just the thought of Him makes my heart feel a painful pang… By all stars, I can’t even write His name because what’s the chance that I won’t break into sobs? Bloody dragon Smoug. Thorin Tho_

_I can’t write his bloody name. I just can’t. Writing only T is just too painful… Now I can barely read what I wrote in the second line because my tears slopped the ink… I just had the most horrendous idea. I’m going write letters to Th HIM. It will be like going through fire but it’s going to be worth it because then I’ll be able to write his name without any pain._

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“Uncle, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Frodo, my boy” said Bilbo looking away from his work desk at his nephew. Frodo, who was now almost 22, held a sheet of paper in his hand. Some would have thought that it was JUST a sheet of paper but after a year of living with his uncle he had seen more of these that were addressed to a person named Thorin.

“Who’s Thorin?”

For a moment Frodo regretted asking because the way Bilbo’s face fell scared him. He was about to apologize but Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment and let a tired sigh.

“An old friend of mine,” said Bilbo and returned to his writing. “He was one of the dwarrows that I went on an adventure with almost 50 years ago.”

“Why didn’t you send him this one?” Frodo waved the one in his hand.

“Because he would never read it… He died in battle.”

Frodo came closer to his Uncle and placed a hand on his shoulder. When he looked down on what Bilbo was doing he saw the same ‘My dear Thorin’ line.

“Then, Uncle… why do you keep on writing him letter?”

“Because it helps to cope with… with…” said Bilbo but didn’t finish.

“Cope with what, Uncle?”

Heartbreak, thought Bilbo.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Bilbo gave Frodo an assuring smile. He gave him the newly written letter and said, “Now be a good boy and throw this and the others into the fireplace. I wrote too many of these and I think now’s the perfect time for burning unnecessary paper,” said Bilbo and pointed to a huge pile of papers.

“Ok, Uncle,” said Frodo and took the pile of letters. Since Bilbo decided to go get the mail Frodo secretly got out of the living room and went for his room instead. He wasn’t going to burn so many unsent letters because the young hobbit honestly wanted to know what kind of person this Thorin. He was especially curious after he saw the reaction from his Uncle when Frodo mentioned his name.

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When Bilbo took out the mail of the box the first thing that he noticed was a big and old-looking envelope. It had the word ‘Burglar’ written in the middle and a line below saying ‘Now is the right time to give this to you – G’. Back then, when he first got the letter he didn’t pay attention to what was written on it.

Not waiting a second Bilbo opened the letter as carefully as possible and started to read.

_My dear Burglar,_

_Since I have only minutes left in this world and I’m not certain that I’ll be able to see you for the last time, I give Balin permission to write my last words down._

_Forgive me, Bilbo. Forgive me, my burglar. I should have never doubted you and your deeds. I should have never doubted your loyal and loving heart. I should have never laid eyes on that cursed stone. Now I realize that you valued life more than anything because where I’m going gold, sapphire or any other jewel has no worth. Where I’m going everyone’s equal._

_I wish that our friendship hadn’t ended up like this. I wish that it had bloomed into something more than a mere friendship between a king and a simple hobbit. I have never been good with words but I wanted you to know that I knew of your affection towards me. I would like you to know, dear burglar, that your feeling are returned._

_I’m leaving this map for you. On normal circumstances this map would have been given to the next King under the Mountain but Balin will have to lie that it had been lost in battle._

_I hope that you’ll think of me from time to time._

_Thank you for loving this old fool of a king._

_Forever yours,_

_Thorin Oakenshield_

Bilbo took out another piece of paper and brushed away a few tears. Indeed, it was the same map that Thorin had with him. Now he understood why it took so long for Gandalf to give him this. 50 years ago the letter would have completely broken the hobbit’s spirit. Bilbo still could remember his last conversation with the king yet he couldn’t understand why Thorin left some things unsaid.

Knowing Thorin, thought Bilbo, he must have been afraid of rejection… just like me.

“You were indeed a fool, my king,” said Bilbo in the direction where he believed to be the road to the Lonely Mountain. “But a loved fool.”

For the first time in those years, a small spark came back into Bilbo’s eyes and the ache in his heart subsided.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that this story made sense. *hides* Reviews are welcome!


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